home,
but that there were so many sad and lonely people in the world that no
one need ever feel any lack of a purpose in life, and she advised me not
to look at charity from a general standpoint, but to narrow it down till
it came within my own grasp.

"Don't think vaguely of the poor all over the world; think of one person
at your own gate, and brighten that life. I once heard a very good man
say that the only way he could reconcile himself to the seeming
injustice between the lots of the poor and the rich was by believing
that each of the latter was deputed by God to look after his poorer
brother, and was _responsible_ for his welfare. Find someone whom you
can take to your heart as your poor sister in God's great family, and
help her in every way you can. It will keep you from growing selfish
and worldly. In your parents' position you will, of course, go a great
deal into society and be admired and made much of, as a bright, pretty
girl. It is only natural that you should enjoy the experience, but
don't let it turn your head. Try to keep your frank, unaffected
manners, and be honest in words and actions. Be especially careful not
to be led away by greed of power and admiration. It is the best thing
that can happen to any woman to win the love of a good, true man, but it
is cruel to wreck his happiness to gratify a foolish vanity. I hope
that none of my girls may be so forgetful of all that is true and
womanly."

She looked awfully solemn. I wonder if she flirted when she was young,
and he was furious and went away and left her! We always wondered why
she didn't marry. There's a photograph of a man on her writing-table,
and Florence said she is sure that was him, for he is in such a lovely
frame, and she puts the best flowers beside him like a shrine.

Florence is awfully clever at making up tales. She used to tell us them
in bed, (like that creature with the name in the _Arabian Nights_). We
used to say:

"Now then, Florence, go on--tell us Fraulein's love-story!" and she
would clear her throat, and cough, and say--"It was a glorious summer
afternoon in the little village of Eisenach, and the sunshine peering
down through the leaves turned to gold the tresses of young Elsa Behrend
as she sat knitting under the trees."

It was just like a book, and so true too, for Fraulein is always
knitting! The Romance de Mademoiselle was awfully exciting. There was
a duel in it, and one man was killed and th